


i gotta take off the edge

by futureboy



Series: FAHC High Sex [2]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Fake AH Crew, Group Sex, High Sex, M/M, Marijuana, Multi, Recreational Drug Use, Trans Michael
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-24 11:10:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15629472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/futureboy/pseuds/futureboy
Summary: “Oh, Jesus, Gav. You reek of weed.”“That would be the weed,” Gavin suggests, and weasels his way into Jeremy’s room. “The gange. Ry and I got some good kush, boi. I’m wavy. I’m ever-so-slightly cooked, Jeremy.”[Gavin and Ryan come back to the penthouse high. They manage to cross paths with Michael and Jeremy.]





	i gotta take off the edge

**Author's Note:**

> [RPF disclaimer: Written according to guidelines set by RT employees (to the best of my knowledge). This is a fictional series of events using characters inspired by real people.]
> 
> Title from Max Frost’s ‘High All Day’.

Ryan’s just spent a full ten minutes in the elevator trying to get to the penthouse, pressing a button at a time until he managed to reach the top. The doors would open - _seventh floor_ \- and he would press eight. The doors would close.

Then open again.

 _Eighth floor_.

The penthouse is on floor twenty-seven.

Needless to say, every inch of his skin is buzzing with little prickles when he finally drags himself into the enormous living room, and he promptly lets himself drop onto the couch.

“...The hell happened to you?”

“Oh, hey, Michael,” he slurs. Hot condensation fills the inside of his skull mask. “I’ve been… y’know...”

Huh.

What _had_ he been doing?

“If you’ve brought a fuckin’ severed ear or some shit into my clean goddamn living room,” Michael warns, “then I’m gonna give it a friend. I swear to god, Ryan, I’ll do it.”

It’s at this point that Ryan looks down at his stomach, and sees a bright yellow tupperware box resting on him. Oh, yeah, that’d been it - he carefully moves it before peeling himself off the leather, and makes to stand.

“Me and Gavin,” he starts, and then considers it, and _then_ says: “wait… Where _is_ Gavin?”

 

* * *

 

Approximately fifteen minutes earlier, Gavin and Ryan had stumbled into the apartment lobby.

“Race you,” Gavin had grinned, and immediately began to bound up the stairs. Every other floor or so, he would check the number above the elevator, but it had been safe to assume that Ryan had been fighting somewhat with the interior, and would be stuck in the lift for a decent amount of time.

He gets to about floor nineteen before he has to stop running for a second. _Blimey_ , he thinks, clinging to the banisters in the stairwell, _it’s bloody hot. No need to run._

 _Oh_ , he thinks, at floor twenty two. _Ryan still has the brownies._

 _I wonder if Jeremy’s about_ , he thinks, hauling himself up the final set of stairs to the penthouse.

 

* * *

 

“I can’t believe you lost him. He can’t have gotten far.”

“I don’t see you looking for him,” Ryan says.

“Sure,” says Michael, tossing ice cubes into the chamber, “let me just take a massive bong rip and I’ll astral project onto the streets of Los Santos. Though I guess if you have brownies, he’s probably going ghost by himself already.”

“Nah, we smoked while we were out,” Ryan grins. “These are for sharing later.”

“Damn,” says Michael, flicking his lighter absently, “you’re a goddamn philanthropist, Ryan.” The lighter has ‘BOI’ engraved into it. Ryan’s vision can pick out a tiny burr on the base, presumably where it’s sustained a scratch during a job.

Michael flicks it again. The flame flares up like a painted fingernail, and he holds it to the bowl. The bong rumbles with air, gurgling merrily as the smoke chamber climbs to the rim:

“You want first hit?”

“Nah,” says Ryan, wondering if the lights have always made that noise, or looked that _swirly._

Michael shrugs. “Suit yourself,” he says, and wraps his lips around the mouthpiece in a shockingly erotic display. Ryan sits up like he’s been electrocuted. Watching hungrily, as Michael vacuums up the smoke and holds it. _God_.

“I’m… gonna go see Jeremy,” he decides. Michael downs a pint of water, offers Ryan the last of it, distracts him-- he feels a cool stream trickle down his oesophagus as Michael takes a hit--

“Okay, I’ll come with,” Michael says finally. He puffs out a little smoke ring with the last of his breath. “What are you staring at?”

“Nothing,” he says. Ryan’s wearing tight-ish jeans today, and he’s never been more thankful.

They wander down to Jeremy’s room. Michael clutches the bong to his chest like a nerdy high schooler would hug their AP Physics textbooks.

“ _Jeeeeremy_ ?” Ryan calls, tapping at the door lamely with his fingertips. “I’m high and I lost Gavin and I want a hug. Gavin’s... probably fine. You should help me text him. And then you should-- _ohhhh_ , Michael’s here too, I shouldn’t say _that_. Jeremy?”

Michael huffs, and goes for the handle.

The door swings open.

 

* * *

 

“It’s not what it looks like,” says Jeremy immediately, throwing his hands up.

 

* * *

 

Just slightly before Ryan had made it onto the appropriate floor, Gavin had rapped on Jeremy’s door with the same rambling nonsense.

“Jeremy? Lemme in, Lil J, you have nice music I need to listen to,” he says, and Jeremy opens up to him.

“What do you want?” he says. Then he sniffs the air. “Oh, Jesus, Gav. You reek of weed.”

“That would be the weed,” Gavin suggests, and weasels his way into Jeremy’s room. “The gange. Ry and I got some good kush, boi. I’m _wavy_. I’m ever-so-slightly cooked, Jeremy.”

He flops down onto Jeremy’s bed - ooh, soft sheets! - and rather enjoys the way that Jeremy scrutinises him.

“Get outta my room,” Jeremy says flatly.

“But I’m comfy now!”

“Out.”

“Why?” Gavin whines.

“Because if Ryan’s coming home high too, then I’m going to fuck him,” Jeremy says, in an annoyingly reasonable manner, “and I’d rather not have you in my bed for that part.”

Gavin drags his hyper-aware finger over lovely, lovely sheet material. “S’pose I should head off, then,” he says.

“ _S’pose_ you should,” Jeremy mocks, and flicks Gav’s forehead.

Gavin drags himself to his feet. But he doesn’t leave.

“And what if I…” he says, then steps into Jeremy’s personal space: “I mean, _s’pose_ I stayed? What then?”

“Gavin...?” Jeremy mumbles.

“What?” he grins. He slips his fingers into Jeremy’s waistband, where his shirt is tucked in at the front, and listens to the man inhale sharply.

“What are you doing?” is the voiceless reply, all whispered and breathy, and it’s doing things to Gavin.

He pulls Jeremy closer, fiddling with the button on his jeans. “Well,” he says, “I’m here right now, and I’m also staying. I can think of some stuff to pass the time with. And your bed is _well_ comfy.”

“Gavin--”

“Jeremy,” he says, and that’s when the door opens.

 

* * *

 

“It’s not what it looks like,” says Jeremy immediately, throwing his hands up.

Ryan’s eyes are probably so wide that everyone can see the full circle of his irises. Blue. Unwavering. _Gavin’s got his hands down Jeremy’s pants_.

“Ryan, I promise--”

“C’mon,” grins Gavin shakily, his confidence resolute and his body jolting with every swaying movement. “It’d be great. Hey, Michael, you should come over here too, we can make it a party--”

“What the fuck, Gavin?” Michael says, but he doesn’t sound angry in the slightest. Amused, definitely, but not annoyed.

Jeremy is fucking terrified, if his face is anything to go by. “Ryan,” he blurts out, and then he can’t find anything else to say, and looks like he hopes Ryan’s name will hold all the required answers.

Ryan’s eyes are black circles ringed in red.

“What if,” he says, slowly, “what if it is what it looks like?”

“Then you’ll be pissed with me and never talk to me again?” Jeremy offers up timidly.

“Then I, uh,” Ryan says. “Then I… I wanna watch. You. I’d wanna… Yeah.”

“You’d be alright with that?” Gavin grins, like the meddling little asshole that he is. “It’d be _so_ good. I reckon we should. Even if you’re watching. You in, Michael?”

“I’m good with it,” Jeremy nods.

Ryan’s turned on, and it’s kind of like his whole body has licked a battery. “Me too,” he says. He thinks maybe he loves Jeremy a little bit. They haven’t done much except hook up a few times - some sober, some _not_ \- but they’ve never discussed being exclusive. It’s understandable that Jeremy was alarmed at endangering that.

It’s _very_ cute, too.

Michael - very, _very_ slowly - drags the chair from Jeremy’s desk over, turns it around, and sits on it sideways. “I think I’m just… Gonna sit with Ryan for a little while.”

“When you’re ready, boi,” Gavin says cheerfully.

Jeremy makes three quick strides over to Ryan, slides his hands into the man’s beard, and drags him down for a fast, hard kiss. “I really like you,” he breathes into Ryan’s mouth. “But I’m also gonna get a blowjob from Gavin, so...”

Ryan cuts him off with a bite to the bottom lip. Jeremy makes a _gorgeous_ low noise in the back of his throat. “Good luck with that,” Ry smiles. “God, I wanna watch you fuck him.”

For a second, it feels like it’s just them there; then Jeremy’s hands in the small of his back bring him back into the room, and he spots the instigator of the whole operation sat on the edge of Jeremy’s bed. Gavin’s twitchy, tiny muscles in his wrists and chin and upper legs jerking randomly and frequently. His knees are ridiculously far apart. He suddenly gives a whole body jerk, his back straightening attentively, and at least has the decency to look embarrassed.

“Sorry,” he laughs, “it’s just… hearing you talk about it is pretty nice.”

“Get comfortable, Ry,” Jeremy murmurs against his lips, and detaches himself to approach Gavin. Ryan takes the armchair by Jeremy’s bookcase and lifts his shirt, exposing his happy trail and the button of his jeans.

Gavin, for all his bravado, is darting his eyes around the room like a cornered animal.

“Fuckin’ undress me, already,” Jeremy says, and that’s enough to get him back on his feet, clawing at Jeremy’s shirt until he can rip it from the man’s wide shoulders and fling it without further thought across the bedroom. When it’s out of sight and out of mind, Gavin wastes no time digging his fingers into Jeremy’s waistband again, pulling him close roughly and mouthing his way across Jeremy’s neck.

“Should I get high too? To level the playing field?” Jeremy laughs, watching as Gav scrabbles against the fastener.

“I can’t help it, Jeremy,” Gavin whines. “My limbs are making decisions without me. _Michael_. I’m moving like one of those Five Night’s at Freddie’s bastards, Michael.”

Michael’s been suspiciously quiet this whole time, and when Ryan remembers to look over, he can see the man tapping his fingers against the back of his chair. Like he’s holding himself back.

“You mean like an animatronic?”

Gavin doesn’t answer. Jeremy’s shoved a warm hand down the ‘v’ of his hips, under boxers and all, and he’s tipped his head onto Jeremy’s shoulder to hiss.

“Are you okay, Michael?” Ryan asks, slightly concerned.

Michael lets his head flop in Ryan’s general direction. “Oh, I’m top,” he says, drawing out the _o_ sound in _top_ with a thick East Coast vowel. “I’m getting hit with waves, baby. It’s pretty sweet.”

Ryan nods approvingly. They turn back to their show: Gavin’s finally cracked the code of Jeremy’s jeans and has fallen onto his knees, helping him out of the last of his clothes from the floor. Jeremy’s sat on the bed. He twists a hand into the back of Gavin’s hair.

Oh, wow. Ryan slips a hand of his own into his underwear.

It starts with a stripe licked up the side of Jeremy’s cock - the man in question freezes up, squeezing his eyes shut abruptly - and progresses up. There’s so much happening, so many actions that Gavin’s taking in all at once. The sensation of the dusting of hair inside Jeremy’s thighs against palms; a thumb stroked against the skin where leg meets torso; what must be the bitter taste of pre against the tense tip of his tongue. Gavin mouths at the head with the soft inside of his lips. Jeremy’s groan is involuntary.

Over in the desk chair, Michael’s sat with his hand in his lap. Ryan thinks that maybe his bong rips are kicking in more strongly than originally anticipated, because he’s sat bolt upright, rocking into his hand like it’s an unconscious action. Like he can’t help it.

“Michael?”

It’s Jeremy who gets his attention. Gavin turns to look at his friend, sliding off what little of Jeremy’s cock he’d eased into his mouth, and his eyebrows are in his hairline. A question.

“Oh, god,” moans Michael, “someone fuck me.”

He stumbles into their outstretched hands desperately, already fumbling with his fly and letting Jeremy drag his t-shirt up. It gets caught under his arms and he flails slightly, a deep frown setting in at the thought of multi-tasking, so Gavin tries to smooth it down with a kiss.

It doesn’t work. Michael lets noises slip behind Gavin’s teeth, scowling as they move against each other and Jeremy tackles the task of Michael’s clothes from behind.

“I’m gonna suck you off, Gavin,” Michael says, sounding strained as Jeremy presses touches into his hips. “I’m gonna suck you off, and-- oh, _shit!”_

Jeremy puts his hand between Michael’s legs, and at the same time, Gavin runs his thumbs over the faint white scars on his chest, brushing across his nipples and making the man’s entire body tense. Ryan can see Jeremy’s fingers come back wet.

“If Michael’s sucking off _you_ , then I’m gonna fuck Michael.”

“ _Je_ sus Christ,” murmurs Gavin, and lets himself be manhandled onto the bed sheets. He shuffles up against the headboard. Michael crawls between his legs. And Ryan tightens his grip _just_ a little more.

“Jeremy, if you don’t fuck me right this fuckin’ second then we’re gonna have a problem.”

“Fuckin’-- hang on, dude,” Jeremy grumbles, rummaging for a condom in his bedside.

“You don’t need that shit, come on, Lil J.”

Realisation sets in. A thrill of arousal hits the other three of them, all at once.

“Shit. Well, that’s hot,” Jeremy says, in a rather higher pitch than normal, “but not whilst I’m fine and you’re high as a kite, Michael, damn.”

“Next time, then, what-fuckin’-ever. If you don’t get inside me right now then I’m starting without you.”

Michael, a sheen of sweat collecting in his scruffy curls, finishes biting back his surprisingly aggressive begging, and looks up through his eyelashes at Gavin. Gavin’s _definitely_ sweating. He’s quiet and turned on and he’s still somehow got a solitary sock on. Ryan can pick out every freckle on Michael’s face and hear every huff of breath escaping from Gavin’s lungs.

“You’ve got a pretty mouth,” Gavin says.

“Shut the fuck up,” says Michael, and wraps those pretty lips around the first few inches of Gavin’s dick. The reaction is instantaneous - Gavin tries to fight the way his hips buck up into the warm, wet heat - and Michael plants his forearms over Gavin’s spread legs to keep him still. His technique appears to be enthusiastic, but not rough, which Ryan thinks Gavin would probably appreciate, because he seems like the kind of person who’d hate teeth and carelessness in that particular area of fucking.

Speaking of - Jeremy’s on his knees behind Michael now, and it’s really goddamn hot. Like, a _lot_. Ryan can feel it thrumming in his bones when Jeremy circles Michael’s hole, oh-so-slowly and dangerously, dampness sticking to his fingertips and muffled groaning coming from between Gavin’s knees.

“Like what you see, Ryan?” Gavin says dreamily. He brushes hair backwards from his face, letting it stick up in random directions.

“Fuck, yeah. God, Michael looks so good with his mouth full. Jere--”

And he shuts up. Jeremy fixes him with the steady look of someone who isn’t caught up in blunt smoke and dazed fantasy, grips Michael’s ass, and pushes into him.

Michael pulls himself off of Gavin’s dick and presses his face into his thighs instead, blissed out and full and still remembering to pump his hand as he moans into Gavin’s skin. Ryan’s chokes out a gasp as his cock leaks suddenly, clearly paying more attention than his dizzy mind is.

“Fuck,” spits Jeremy, starting to move, “god _damn_ , Ryan, I’m gonna fuck you tomorrow, too. Or you can fuck me. I don’t care. I just want--”

And Ryan understands - they want, they want, they want. It’s consuming him slowly, like fire eating away at the dry edges of rolling paper, and holy shit, he wants _more_.

Gavin’s fingers tighten in Michael’s hair, and his head knocks against the headboard loudly. “Michael,” he says loudly, his eyes closed tight but his expression opening up into surprise. His heels dig into the sheets, finding zero traction as they go. When Michael presses his nails lightly into the dip in his hip bones, he cums with a strangled cry.

Michael coughs wetly. And swallows. And then chases after any droplets which escaped his mouth, panting lightly as he does. Gavin might have genuinely transcended, true, but he’s still bound to their plane of existence enough to cover Michael’s hands with his own.

“Fuck, did you just swallow?” Jeremy blurts, “fuck, that’s hot, Michael, holy shit. Oh my god.”

He’s balanced in his movement, strong stokes and steady hips building up Michael into a series of whines and moans. He untangles one of his hands from Gavin’s and moves between his own legs, spreading himself obscenely for Jeremy and Ryan and rubbing between thrusts.

“Jeremy,” he says, his voice cracking, “go harder, dude, I’m super close--”

He dissolves into chants of _ah, ah, ah, please_ , softened against Gavin’s skin. Gavin tugs at his curls lazily, watching the scene in a post-orgasm haze. Michael spasms, clutching at Gav’s hips with one hand and moving frantically against himself with the other, and then he’s shuddering with a shocked cry.

“Fuck,” Jeremy says, “fuck, that feels good, _fuck_ , I’m gonna cum!”

He buries himself inside Michael whilst Michael’s still riding both of his highs, growling in the back of his throat so hard that it sounds painful.

Ryan’s tangential thoughts imagine what the scene would look like if they’d taken Michael’s suggestion of no condom to heart, and he almost bites through his own bottom lip.

“One of you needs to get over here right now and kiss me,” he says hoarsely. To everyone’s surprise, Michael crosses the room shakily to do exactly that, his knees clicking with the change of position. He takes a heavy seat on the edge of Ryan’s legs, sprawling, naked, across his lap. When he leans down to crash their mouths together, Ryan can taste Gavin. There’s so much going on - Jeremy fucking Michael, Michael sucking off Gavin, the kissing, those lovely sounds and the show they’d put on and the hypersensitive output of the whole fucking world streaming into his brain, and Michael’s got scratchy, fair stubble, and the tang of cum in his mouth feels electric. Ryan tips over the edge _hard_ , like he’s slammed into a brick wall.

_“Shit!”_

His voice is gravelly and his fist is fast. He shoots ropes of cum in wet white lines over Michael’s stomach. If that wasn’t a sight in itself, a teasing finger circles his tip as he starts to come down from his orgasm, and Ryan reacts so violently with the intense arousal that his and Michael’s teeth clack together.

“Join in, next time,” Michael says angrily.

“God, yes,” Ryan moans.

“Next time?” asks Jeremy, at the same time.

“Yeah,” says Gavin faintly, “we’re gonna get jizz all over your duvet all over again. Guys-- let’s have a high orgy, guys. I’m feeling it. Not right now, but I bet we could ask the others.”

“Shut up, Gavin,” says Michael, and wipes himself down. He offers out an unsteady hand to Ryan, who picks himself up, follows, and collapses into Jeremy and Gavin’s waiting arms.

“This bed isn’t big enough for four.”

“Yeah, it is,” Jeremy says, already closing his eyes. “Of all the people to complain about comfort, I would’ve thought your lazy, high asses would be pretty quiet.”

The four of them sprawl over each other. It’s too hot. Jeremy’s mostly right, because no-one cares.

 

(In actuality, they don’t do it the next time. Things go south right around the moment Jeremy dares Gavin to eat a habanero pepper, and the three of them spend the next couple of hours laughing themselves into abs at Gavin’s periodic alarm.)

 

(But the time after that, they ask Lindsay and Matt to join them.)

**Author's Note:**

> Cheers for reading - if you like my stuff, maybe consider author-subscribing to me! Comments and kudos are also appreciated. Noice.
> 
> My fic blog is [here](http://futureboy-ao3.tumblr.com/).


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